Sherlock landed in a patch of especially tall, salty grass and lay there for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Questions. He was good at asking the right ones. Besides, he had a few he needed answering himself.

He stood up. "You are the Fields of Trenzalore?"

Yes. Welcome, Sherlock Holmes.

"Will you answer any question I have?"

Yes.

"Do you know everything?"

No, but I daresay I know more than you.

Sherlock smiled in spite of himself. "Oh, I think I like you. Cheeky, then. What will happen if the Doctor's name is revealed today?"

Legend has said that he will bring doom with him when he says it, doom for all of time and every nation. The Time Lords will return. The Silence will fall.

"What silence?"

The silence that has kept them quiet and in the dark for years. The ancient people he will free will no longer be silenced. Their voice will be heard throughout generations. It is they who have prepared for this day.

"Who are they? The ancient people?"

The creators of Trenzalore. They have waited in the dark for this day, for the day the weary Doctor could no longer run or hide. And they will be brought to glory after dark millennia.

"Sounds like a nasty business."

It is not your business to fear. You have nothing to do with the name, Sherlock Holmes. You have other questions. Important questions. Ones to ask and one to answer. John Watson seeks you.

"Indeed he does." He paused and tapped his chin. "Why does he seek me?"

He has a question he fears asking.

"He's afraid I'm going to leave him. He thinks I don't want to marry him and I'll leave him at the altar."

That is not a question, Sherlock Holmes.

"Right. The question is, what is the answer to his question?"

You already know the answer.

"I do. I want to see how accurate you are."

You married John Watson. You have decided. Long ago.

He smiled. "You have me there. I will marry him, no matter how ridiculous I find the institution."

That is not what I said. I said that you married John Watson.

"Pretty sure I'd remember that."

That is not a question.

Sherlock groaned. "Why, praytell, do you think I've married him already when I know I haven't?"

You know you have. You married him two years ago aboard Starship Moriarty, in an aborted timeline when John Watson was dying. The Doctor married you before deleting the timeline.

Sherlock tried to hide a gasp. As soon as he heard it, the memories fit back into his mind like a puzzle piece found under a sofa. He remembered insisting that the Doctor perform a marriage ceremony for them, remembered John groaning in pain and spurting blood, remembered kissing him as everything illuminated and burst into fire. He had married John—how had he forgotten?

He hadn't. He had remembered something nagging at the back of his mind for the past two years. Something important that he'd missed and tried to meditate to remember. Something he'd tried to search through his mind palace for to make sense of.

"Why do I still remember it?"

You are a time traveler now. You remember some things that happened only in your mind, in times that never existed. You remember this because you are a time traveler, and you wanted to remember.

"Does John know?"

He was in great pain. It still exists in his mind, but he has never accessed it. If he is reminded, there is a great chance he will recall it.

Sherlock would have left it at that, but he still felt the tiniest pull in the back of his brain, telling him there was something he was missing. There was still a part of him missing. "What else do I remember from that time? I still have a feeling like I've missed something important."

There is nothing else to remember. What you are feeling is Netherspace.

"Explain it."

That is not a question.

"What is Netherspace?" he growled at the pesky Fields. "Answer that, then!"

The Fields took time to pay Sherlock back for snapping. Netherspace is the dimension for things that are lost. It is the place where all things from deleted timelines and abandoned existences can still survive, in some capacity.

"So, the Sherlock that died that day—he went to Netherspace?"

No. You are survived by yourself. There is only an imprint of you in Netherspace. You feel the connection in your brain to the imprint that exists there, but it does not live on its own. It is connected to you.

"How do I get there?"

It is not a place you can go. It exists on a different plane that is only intellectual.

"Could a TARDIS take me there?"

I do not know.

Sherlock felt a thrill go down his spine. This was excellent. This was brilliant, even—there was a purely intellectual dimension where a pattern of him existed. If he ever escaped Trenzalore, he would have to do more research. "How can I save the Doctor today?"

There is nothing to save. He will answer the question and raise the empire, but he will not die.

"Where is he? Where is John?"

The Fields did not answer but instead opened a swath of the grass to allow him to pass through. Without a thank you, he ran like mad down the grassy aisle, calling for his friends.

River shook her curls out to release the scary memory. She had made him a promise not to let it destroy him. She had to figure out a way to keep him safe and keep this from happening.

"All right, then. You tell me. Does the Doctor's name get revealed today?"

Yes.

"Is there any way to stop it?"

It has already begun to happen. He will tell his name today.

"How do I save him?"

You have no need to save him. He will not die as a result of telling his name. The only thing that will happen is what you already expect. He will bring Gallifrey back.

"Are the Time Lords responsible for this? Are they the ones who prepared for this day, knowing he would bring them back?"

Yes.

"Does the Doctor know?"

Yes.

River blew a breath through her teeth. It was unstoppable then. The Doctor would tell his name, and all would be lost. The Time Lords would reenter the universe and pull the fabric of existence apart with their greed, and her poor, beloved Doctor would break. "Did they take the TARDIS? Is that how we got here?"

Yes. They are using the TARDIS as a power source to fuel their return. Gallifrey will rise high once more on the horizon of Trenzalore, and all will be lost and saved.

"Then you tell me, oh Fields of Trenzalore, how I'm going to save him. I am the woman who married the Doctor. I am the woman who killed him once, and I am the Song that kills with mercy. You tell me how I save him."

If the Fields of Trenzalore could gulp then, it would have, but after a moment of silence, it answered her. You know what the Doctor will ask you to do.

She didn't even blink. "Yes."

He won't be able to come back. You will ensure it, both of you. No escape from that.

"If he asks it of me, I will do it. But will it be the end?"

No. Not if you do as you are told. Are you willing to follow instructions, River Song?

"For the Doctor, I would die."

Good. You will have to. After the name is told and you complete what must be done, a younger version of the Doctor will pick you up and take you to Darillium to see the Singing Towers. After this, you must go to the Library.

"The Library planet?" She'd been on the expedition list for ages. "What will I do there?"

A younger Doctor will be there. His last incarnation. You must make sure you have the sonic screwdriver you were given at Darillium, and you will face a dark enemy with him. It will require a sacrifice—but you must trust the Doctor. He will ensure that you don't die completely. Once you are killed, you must trust him and when you get into CAL—

"CAL?"

—you must search the databases for information on Netherspace. Find a way in. Then you must find a way to get out of the CAL database and back into human form and make your way to Netherspace. It's the only chance he has.

River nodded gravely. "Where is the Doctor? Take me to him."

You are the daughter of the Doctor.

Clara picked herself up off the ground and brushed off broken, cool grass. "What's it to you, Planty?"

You recently found it out. You're defensive.

"And you're not Sherlock Holmes. Stop deducing me and tell me how to save the Doctor."

That's not a question. Before Clara could reword it into a question, the Fields continued. Don't you have a question? You could know nearly everything. You're the most sought-after woman in the universe.

"Stop it—I don't want to hear it," Clara said angrily. "You're messing with me. I want to know how to save the Doctor."

Still not a question, Clara. Don't you want to know what your name means?

"I know what it means. The Doctor told me."

He told you the translation. Don't you want to know what your destiny is?

"Yes," she answered honestly. "Stop it. I'm trying to save a Time Lord here."

All you have to do is ask. It won't hurt the Doctor if you ask about your own name. Ask it, Clara. I know what your destiny is. Your entire family's fate depends on you.

That got her attention—she had the chance to save her family. "What is their fate? The Doctor's and River's?"

The Doctor is destined to bring back the planet of the Time Lords from their locked space in time, but he will not do it willingly. He will die before he goes through with his fate, and River Song will kill him. She will die soon after to try and save him.

"How do I stop them from dying?"

They are destined to die. They always have and always will.

"Is there anything I can do?"

Yes.